


Temptations From N'zoth

by tinycrown



Series: adored characters: anduin [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Nightmares of N'zoth, Romance, Seduction, Sort Of, Temptation, but idk, its kinda sad tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycrown/pseuds/tinycrown
Summary: Sucked into a nightmare, Wrathion resists the temptations offered to him for his 'freedom' and refuses to follow the path of his Grandfather.
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: adored characters: anduin [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221878
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Temptations From N'zoth

Wrathion opened his eyes blearily, confused and dazed as his head throbbed annoyingly. He’d just been within the Chambers, looking through star maps and puzzling through his research, occasionally chatting with his brother, Ebyssian. The whispers always prodded to him but they never became louder than just that, whispers. They hardly bothered him now with all that was taking his attention. 

When his eyes finally cleared, Wrathion took in his surroundings. 

He was inside Stormwind Keep, but something was wrong. It was too dark and dismal, feeling the energetic terror building around him. Wrathion looked down and found himself standing right in the middle of the throne room, facing the long hallway to the entrance to the Keep. Wrathion looked behind him to see the Lion’s Seat, golden statues of the felines proudly stood on either side, chests puffed and eyes to the front. He went to take a step forward and froze, finding that he could not move his limbs at will. 

He also found the Royal Guards strangely absent from their usual posts, in fact, the whole room was devoid of any humans, even the rooms astride of the throne room. Wrathion tried to move again and found heavy resistance, as if his limbs were weighted down with bricks of lead. Wrathion heard faint footsteps against the stone, gentle tapping that sounded too slow, and yet the person in question was already in the room, standing in front of him. 

A pale, grey-skinned figure with slicked-back hair and deep orange eyes, his armor mainly black crusted with deep fissures that crackled with magma and fire in his chest plate. Wrathion tensed and squinted down at him. Orange eyes, usually of those under N’zoth’s corruption had orange eyes. 

“Hello, grandson,” Wrathion growled and yet, he still could not control his body. “Are you really so surprised?” He asked with a deep laugh right behind the question, a look of amusement crossing his face. “I suppose not…” 

“What are you doing here? What am I doing here?”

“My heart lies right over the lake, all for these mortals to gawk at and wonder how it became so blackened,” He made a disgusted face. “I wanted freedom from my burdens, from the constant yelling in my head, the pressures, and you can have that same freedom.” Wrathion looked out toward the royal gardens, remembering that only a few weeks ago he’d stood beside that lake with Anduin, conversing about N’zoth, the heart of Deathwing stood on an islet in the middle of the lake. He paid no mind to it, nor could he have cared much at the time.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Wrathion sneered, fighting his muscles to regain control over his fingers. They twitched and stretched as he clenched them into fists, the leather straining. 

“No, you’re supposed to realize what could happen if you let your charade play any longer,” Neltharion stepped forward slightly and Wrathion growled again, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. “You’ve played nice with the mortals now, grandson, but it’s time to face the facts. They will betray you and kill you, put your body on display as they did to me and your aunt, Onyxia.”

“You hurt people.  _ She _ hurt people. Do you think you don’t deserve it?” He questioned, tucking his elbows as he attempted to move his arms. He saw Neltharion’s eyes narrow and knew that he was running out of time. N’zoth could hold his mind for so long before the resistance broke through and freed him from this… this  _ nightmare.  _

“I think we deserved our freedom, and so do you.” 

“Madness isn’t freedom!” Wrathion yelled, pulling his shoulders free. He felt like a stone statue that was crumbling slowly, limb from limb. 

“Think of it, Wrathion. You could have everything you want, even that mortal boy you care about so much…” Neltharion snapped his fingers, and Anduin had suddenly appeared from behind his grandfather’s bulky form. So breakable standing beside the man who had nearly ruined Azeroth, with pale skin and fair golden hair, the complete opposite of Wrathion himself. He appeared in provocative robes, a lengthy tabard with long sleeves that revealed his lithe, scarred legs. The warped, scarred skin looked exactly as Wrathion remembered, accompanied with lean muscle. 

He walked towards Wrathion, standing too close to him to be comfortable, hands clasped in front of him as Anduin stared up at him with clouded crystalline blue eyes, almost appearing to be… controlled? 

Anduin raised his hand and pushed on his chest, forcing him backwards to stumble and sit on the throne as the king settled himself across his lap, pushing the fold of his overcoat aside as he caressed his bare collar. His robotic yet sultry gaze made Wrathion slightly uncomfortable, pressing his thinly clothed chest against the dragon’s. 

“Do you not want the freedom from these burdens? Why do you fight so hard against the inevitable? You could have all the mortals under your thumb, you could convince your brother to join forces with you! You two could rule the world!” Wrathion squirmed as his arms practically moved themselves, wrapping them tight around Anduin’s waist as the king pressed soft, sweet kisses on his cheek, down his neck. His slim hand cupped Wrathion’s cheek as he turned to press their noses together, dazed eyes staring directly into his. 

“Don’t you want me?” Anduin asked quietly, quiet enough for Wrathion only to hear. “Don’t you want  _ us?”  _ the king closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together, Wrathion’s body responding eagerly before his mind fought to resist. “You can have me, I’ll be yours.” He mumbled against his lips before diving in again. The dragon felt disgusted. Anduin wasn’t property to be owned, and having these visions portray him so…  _ giving _ with himself left a bad taste in his mouth. Anduin was too strong for this weakness of desire. _Wrathion_ was strong enough to resist the desire. He'd been doing it all his life.

Wrathion abhorred the thought of controlling his own friend, whatever this nightmare was insinuating, Wrathion didn’t long to have Anduin as his body slave, he intended to have Anduin as his friend. As a good friend, the kind that can lean on each other without fear and offer support and a good shoulder to cry on. That’s what friends were, right?

Wrathion may have thought of… attempting to court the priest when he returned, but this wasn’t an option in the time of distress and the threats to the dying Azeroth. He wanted Anduin to come back to him on his own time, when he was ready, not be forced to his side by power and desire out of his control. The real Anduin would hate him under these circumstances, whether outwardly or inwardly. He would loathe him, want him  _ dead-  _ if Wrathion tried to force him to be his… consort was a better word for it. 

Anduin pulled away from his lips and still had that unemotional look in his eyes. N’zoth couldn’t make the priest seem any more unrealistic. When he kissed Anduin in the tavern all those years ago the fear and passion and love in his eyes would always make itself apparent. Anduin held his heart on his cheek for all to see, this version of his dear friend was so inaccurate that it hurt him physically to see someone that  _ looked _ like Anduin seem so broken and stiff like a record that repeated on a scratch.

“Your attempts to persuade me have gone horribly, grandfather,” Wrathion said dismissively, arms loosening around Anduin as he slowly regained control again, N’zoth’s power weakening over his mind. “As much as… idiotically tempting as you tried to make it appear, taking advantage of someone I truly care about is not part of my goals.” Wrathion stood up, and yet the nightmare Anduin still stood close to him, hand plastered against his chest and his face twisting into something confused and hurt. 

Ah. The Old God was learning. 

He wanted nothing more than to wipe the frightened frown off of Anduin’s face, but as much as he knew he couldn’t spare himself the vulnerability, he placated himself by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling Anduin close to himself. 

“I do not wish to have my freedom if Azeroth is the cost. Unlike you, I’ve sworn myself to her protection, and the protection of her inhabitants.” Anduin rested his head on his shoulder, no longer attempting to seduce him into persuasion so forwardly. Anduin instead held his hand and attempted to burrow himself against Wrathion’s front. The priest’s pale fingers intertwined with his as he nuzzled his head underneath his chin. Wrathion couldn’t help but let himself appear slightly vulnerable, curious as to what the image of the king might do next. 

Anduin’s approach to love was subtle, things that he would do for people he cared about would show in small and significant ways. He cared too much and thought too little about the consequences of heartbreak and grief. 

Wrathion couldn’t imagine what Anduin felt after he woke up from the temporary coma he had put the king when they were young. Something worse than heartbreak and grief, something devastating. Anduin had shown him so much that he cared despite the claims of not trusting him, Anduin trusted Wrathion with his heart completely. The priest would guide him to sleep when exhaustion refused to submit, holding him against his broken and aching body in dragon form to give him comfort where he could not give it to himself, though Wrathion tried hard to reciprocate sometimes his attempts fell through too hard, and yet Anduin welcomed his mistakes with open, shattered arms. 

“You seem to be comfortable with temptation.” Deathwing’s ragged voice stole Wrathion from his blooming thoughts as his arm robotically slid down Anduin’s back, the priest staring up at him, eyes filled with the same love and sadness he’d always looked at him with. Deathwing was grinning from his position down in the throne room, but soon he melted away into dust, leaving just him and Anduin. 

“I’m still hurting. Right here,” Anduin pulled away from him, folding his arms tight across his chest, holding a hand against the left side of his chest, “You hurt me and you broke my heart.” His voice was tight with emotion and Wrathion felt something ache in his chest, finding unfair that N’zoth could learn from his mistakes so quickly and change them to fit his persuading narrative. Wrathion vowed to not let the Old God overtake his mind, despite the fact that he still didn’t have enough strength to force himself awake. If Ebyssian was nearby, he’d help him. 

Right? 

“Did you take pleasure in hurting me?” Wrathion’s head snapped up at the question, and his feet carried him close to the priest again as he gently took hold of his arms. 

“Of course not!” Why was he justifying himself to a nightmare? 

“Do you think I’m disgusting now that I’ve been broken, by  _ you?”  _ Wrathion nearly snarled. He didn’t  _ break  _ Anduin… “Do you think any of this has been easy for me after you  _ ruined everything?”  _ The dragon flinched and let go of his arms. “You claimed you wanted to protect Azeroth and yet your plans have led to her downfall,” Anduin stepped closer to him, arms falling to his sides as his shoulders squared, taking his powerful, kingly stance. “Maybe accepting freedom is worth it if we can mend Azeroth with the power of N’zoth,” What nightmare Anduin was speaking was nothing but nonsense, and Wrathion felt himself gain more control. “N’zoth will heal our world, and protect it from Black Dragons like  _ you _ who claim to be her protectors when you are so obviously  _ not.” N _ ightmare Anduin seethed, circling the dragon as Wrathion hung his head.

He made terrible mistakes in Pandaria, almost seeming to be power-hungry with the way he took advantage of his champions and his so-called “friends”. His plans lead to the council of Gul’dan, who murdered Anduin’s father, his only remaining family. The Wrynns were now Wrynn, and that Wrynn had been broken by the weight of the crown, almost similar to the weight of the bell. Sylvanas had gone off her rocker after accepting a position of power following Vol’jin’s death, easily corrupted and tempted by the strength of the Old Gods. 

What he had initially thought to do with Garrosh beforehand had completely gone off the rails, and if he’d been moments earlier then he’d have been dead in the grass just like Kairoz, unable to come back and fix his mistakes, unable to help Anduin and save Azeroth. 

Honestly, he was still just glad to be alive. 

“Speak your gibberish all you like,” He replied tersely, colder than he’d ever acted towards the priest. “I’m not inclined to take words from a fool.” He held his chin high as he prepared to try and boot himself from this nightmare. Anduin’s hackles seemed to die down as he stepped away from Wrathion. 

“Fine. Then just... just leave. Leave like you always have.” He turned away from him, shoulders drawn together as he wrapped his arms around himself. Wrathion wilted slightly. Why was he going to try to comfort  _ a nightmare?  _

The dragon approached the king and turned him around forcefully, pressing him tight against the stone wall. Anduin’s fists clenched as he shrunk under Wrathion’s deep, ruby red stare. 

“No madness is worth losing you, nightmare or not. You may not be the real Anduin but in any form, I love you dearly and  _ this _ is not worth losing you. I won’t allow it. I promised to protect you and I will. Now  _ get out  _ of my head.” 

Nightmare Anduin brought his slim, wiry arms up to wrap around his shoulder and kiss him with such passion that Wrathion could feel the desperation to latch onto his mind like a stick poking him in the back of the head. Anduin cupped his jaw and stroked his cheekbone as he continued to ravish the dragon’s lips, remaining so close to him that when Wrathion looked deep into Anduin’s sallow blue eyes he could see the taint of orange in his pupils. The nightmare form melted against him and continued to stare defiantly at him, the vision around him wobbling and waning and breaking, flaking into darkness and yet the nightmare continuing to stand strong and refused to be destroyed. 

In a last-ditch effort to rid his mind of the fake Anduin, Wrathion held him close to his chest and leaned next to his ear. 

“I love you, my dear.” He kissed his temple and then snarled.

“Now  _ leave.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> this patch really got me fucked up guys I ain't even lying. Blizzard, I really need more content between Anduin and Wrathion so I can make it work better than y'all can.
> 
> we haven't even gotten to Wrathion and Anduin's relationship in Shipwrecked but here I am giving you BACKGROUND INFORMATION.
> 
> we appreciate

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  * [When I'm laid to my rest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372729) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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